La Vie Domestique
by tantamani
Summary: A little domestic bliss for our girls. It's not very long, a bit of a snapshot if you will. This story revolves around the love between 2 women, if that bothers you, don't read it! Reviews are greatly appreciated...


**A/N:** it's been way too long since I've written anything, so I hope you guys will still want to read anything from me. I haven't actually worked on my big story at all, but these little one shots and snippets are a good way to get there.

I would like to dedicate this to my girl, she's been with me through it all, never wavering in her support and understanding. I love you, sweetie! Thank you for making my dreams come true.

**La Vie Domestique**

The soothing sound of a late night summer breeze through the neighborhood trees was only occasionally interrupted by the soft hooting of an owl. The streets were deserted, smelling crisp and cool after the short rain shower merely an hour before. All but a few houses were fully dark, their owners having retired to bed early in preparation of a new school year.

The quiet night air was suddenly disturbed by a loud shriek and the sound of laughter coming from a small, white cottage style house at the end of the road.

_Five minutes earlier:_

"Fleur!" a wavy haired brunette yelped, her hand holding a yellow dishtowel as a tuft of soapy bubbles dripped down between her chocolate colored eyes. 

"Oui?" came the faux-innocent reply from her silvery blonde haired counterpart. "You 'ad somezing on your face, mon amour. I waz only trying to 'elp."

A flirty half smile graced her pouty lips while she tried very hard to keep her focus on the dishes they were supposed to be doing.

"Oh really? Something on my face?" Hermione put the towel on top of the dripping plates before turning towards her wife. "And what, if I may ask, was on my face that warranted a dishwater attack?" Her brown eyes twinkled merrily, loving how they could still get giddy and act like teenagers around each other, even after almost 10 years of marriage.

"Were we not supposed to be doing ze dishes, mon amour?" Fleur asked teasingly. 

"Oh, the dishes can wait; I feel the sudden urge to tickle my gorgeous wife."

And she did just that. Her small hands reached out towards the blonde's waist, but before she could find her target, Fleur had spun out of reach. A small giggle escaped the blonde's lips and a playful smirk lit up her features.

The chase was on, and Hermione took her mission of tickling very seriously. She never did anything half-assed, be it studying, work or making sure her wife shrieked with laughter. They ran out of the kitchen, through the house, around the dining room table and into the hallway. There Hermione finally caught up with her prey and pinned her against the wall besides their bedroom door.

Nimble fingers made quick work of finding the soft skin at Fleur's waist. 

"Now that I have you…" the words were whispered close to her ear, warm breath tickling her skin, making her racing pulse pick up another notch. "What should I do with you? Hmm?"

"Oh, mon Dieu!" was the only breathless reply she could muster because a thigh had found its way between hers, putting pressure in all the right places. 

"I could do this…" Soft lips caressed over her pulse point. "Or this…" The fingers at her waist traveled higher, caressing her ribs, stopping just shy of the swell of her breasts.

"Ma belle… please?" The Veela was not known for her patience and her wife was quickly turning her into a quivering mess.

"Ah, but love, I remember saying something about wanting to tickle you."  
And suddenly those soft caresses became tickles and Fleur shrieked.

"'Ermioneeee!" The blonde desperately tried to break away from her lover's grasp, only to fail miserably because the thigh against her center pushed up turning the shriek into a load moan. "Merde!"

They were so focused on each other they didn't hear the door opening or even the small "_Oh God, not again!_" until a boy's voice cleared the lust from their minds.

"Honestly! I am going back into my room and I'll come back out to use the bathroom in _five_ minutes."

The young boy, just turned eleven two weeks before, huffed and turned around.

"_Seriously! My mothers are horn dogs_!" could be heard through the closing door. 

"Eli Julien Delacour-Granger! What did we say about using words you learn from your uncles Fred and George!" Hermione's face was raging a war between extreme embarrassment and parental authority.

A soft snort from behind her made her turn her head to shoot daggers at her wife who was trying, _and failing_, to hold back her mirth.

"Fleur! This is not funny!" The brunette was quickly reaching her boiling point, but her lover was having none of that.

Slender arms circled Hermione's waist.

"Je sais, mon amour. But 'e is right."

That flirty smile made an appearance again and the lust in those cerulean eyes made Hermione feel her own wants again.

"I know," she relented, before kissing her wife softly. "Want to take this into the bedroom?" 

"Mmm, oui!" They made their way to their room, putting up a strong silencing charm as they locked the door behind them. "And tomorrow, 'e is going to 'Ogwarts and we will have ze 'ouse to ourselves again."

Hermione's hands traveled down her lovers alluring form to stroke her stomach lovingly. "Only for six more months, my lovely wife. Little Sofia will complete our little family soon."

TBC?


End file.
